I am Here, present, right here, right now, and now, and now, and now. I haven't often been Here. Once upon a time I had never been Here. It was a destination completely unknown to me. I heard talk of this place, but it was like that country I knew I'd never travel to, mostly because I probably wouldn't have the time, the money, or frankly, the desire. Scared of the natives. Didn't want to be a stranger stranger.
I danced around this place called Here. I can say danced, because I am Here right now, and this place is only loving. From any other destination, you might have called it running scared, jagged attempts at walking a straight line, a desperate plight to connect the dots to find the answers. It feels like living in a sealed glass jar, banging your fists and screaming at the top of your lungs, seeing everyone and everything just outside, but nobody can hear you--or worse, you believe they can hear your, but are ignoring you.
These days I am catching myself doing this little dance around myself.
For longer durations, I know what it is to be Here, now. And the natives are friendly! We are holding hands, dancing, listening to good guitar. Loves me some good guitar. We are experiencing the same ball of wax as though it were a crystal ball!
You kind of wonder why you waited so long to get your ticket, get the off the couch, and get yourself to the airport!
I'm moving Here. I've got my bags packed, and much of the time I leave at least one foot Here. Step in quite often with two.
And I see You Here. God, you're beautiful, spectacular.
And all that pain was so worth it, the fire under my ass to finally get off the couch and come for a visit. I promise I won't stay away too long, cause I don't want to miss what is Here. Found my oasis, my tropical playground, and I'm having so much fun, I don't even miss there. Here is where it is at.
And to think all it took was to get the hell down off my cross.
My friend Karen just told me about the Tom Waits song, Come On Up to the House. Here it is for your listening pleasure.
"Come down off the cross," He croons, "We can use the wood." Genius.
Come to find that all that wood makes a mighty nice fire--sittin' around it, holdin' hands, kids roastin' marshmallows, firelight glowin' in our eyes, gratuitous laughter, and is that singing?
Mighty nice.
Lookin' forward to seeing you Here. And bring your wood. We can use it.
I danced around this place called Here. I can say danced, because I am Here right now, and this place is only loving. From any other destination, you might have called it running scared, jagged attempts at walking a straight line, a desperate plight to connect the dots to find the answers. It feels like living in a sealed glass jar, banging your fists and screaming at the top of your lungs, seeing everyone and everything just outside, but nobody can hear you--or worse, you believe they can hear your, but are ignoring you.
These days I am catching myself doing this little dance around myself.
For longer durations, I know what it is to be Here, now. And the natives are friendly! We are holding hands, dancing, listening to good guitar. Loves me some good guitar. We are experiencing the same ball of wax as though it were a crystal ball!
You kind of wonder why you waited so long to get your ticket, get the off the couch, and get yourself to the airport!
I'm moving Here. I've got my bags packed, and much of the time I leave at least one foot Here. Step in quite often with two.
And I see You Here. God, you're beautiful, spectacular.
And all that pain was so worth it, the fire under my ass to finally get off the couch and come for a visit. I promise I won't stay away too long, cause I don't want to miss what is Here. Found my oasis, my tropical playground, and I'm having so much fun, I don't even miss there. Here is where it is at.
And to think all it took was to get the hell down off my cross.
My friend Karen just told me about the Tom Waits song, Come On Up to the House. Here it is for your listening pleasure.
"Come down off the cross," He croons, "We can use the wood." Genius.
Come to find that all that wood makes a mighty nice fire--sittin' around it, holdin' hands, kids roastin' marshmallows, firelight glowin' in our eyes, gratuitous laughter, and is that singing?
Mighty nice.
Lookin' forward to seeing you Here. And bring your wood. We can use it.
I'm bringing a nice stack of wood for the fire. Thanks for the invitation!
ReplyDeleteFreedom! Isn't it just surreal to think that you can just do it? You have it. You are it.
You are radiant! I honor your courage, your strength, your commitment to love, and your willingness to let yourself shine, here and now.
HERE is so where it's at, Brooke. And you are so where it's at. From Here, I see you too--how perfectly spectacular you are.
ReplyDeleteI picture us Here, all warm and toasty by the fire, holding hands, laughing our asses off, leaning in--being every bit of our fucking beautiful Selves.
Love and more love to you, my dancing, firelight-glowin' friend.
Love it! Let's bring chocolate bars and graham crackers for those roasting marshmallows and make 'smores!
ReplyDeleteEnjoying your questions, Brooke. Feels more like a conversation with a friend than an interview. It is giving me a chance to reflect.
Hey Brooke!
ReplyDeleteIt's been ages. This Tom Waits' album is a favorite of ours. Love "experiencing this same damn ball of wax as though it were a crystal ball!"
Enjoy your oasis and perhaps we'll cross physical paths again soon.
Rebecca
I've often fantasized about moving there too...with the turquoise waters, warm breezes, and soothing guitar music, but somehow I always get lost on my way there. I keep telling myself that it's easy to find, and I've even written down the directions, but I wrote them on the back of a sales receipt for Home Depot and I can't remember where I put it. I needed nails because my cross was getting a little creaky. I should have bought some Crazy Glue too...that stuff works like magic.
ReplyDeleteThe next time I visit I'm going to pay extra special attention to road signs and land marks. Sometimes I wonder if this place really exists or if I made it up...this is getting old.
Thanks for reminding me that this place is real Brooke, I was beginning to think that it was all in my head;)